Re-entry is a bitch

Well, the length of my long vacation was correct this year. Third time's the charm. To summarize, the first week I did things I was desperate to do (decompress, read a fun book, be alone) and slowly stopped thinking/dreaming about work so much; the second week I floated; the third week I went "oh, yeah, I'd better finish those things I had wanted to get done" and that was true, but by then I was relaxed, so I had fun doing those things and ended the vacation feeling accomplished and human.

(Among those things: the hedonism book posted about already, the last of the writing exercises from Steering the Craft by Ursula K Le Guin -- which apfelsingail also did! -- going to Microcenter to buy a real chonker of a laptop that can run Adobe Premier Elements, and touching up some ceiling paint.)

Then I went back to work and, while the details don't belong here, I was crying in a bathroom stall at 5:05 on Monday. I went home, did some basic math on how many cash dollars I make every day, decided to give Tuesday a try, and no day after that was quite as bad. On Wednesday I even got to give a talk I quite enjoy giving. But it was not an auspicious re-entry. Next week when I'm in London for a big managers' summit thing, I'm hoping to get some advice from more senior folk.

Ah, yeah, I also turned 42. Which makes me think about Life, the Universe and Everything, but what I really need from that franchise right now is the friendly Don't Panic signage.